


Signs

by AStupidUserName420



Category: French Revolution RPF, Italian Renaissance RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Other, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 17:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10141040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStupidUserName420/pseuds/AStupidUserName420
Summary: The chances of meeting your soulmate randomly are pretty low. Meeting both of them at the same time are even lower.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Soulmate AU with a literally impossible threesome comprised of Leonardo da Vinci, Maximilien Robespierre and Antoine Saint-Just? I reserve the right to not have to answer why this exist, only that it does.

Signs.

A/N: Considering how often my Leonardo playlist popped up whilst writing this, I’m taking it as a divine sign that he 100% approves. Therefore I don’t even care what anyone else thinks about this actually impossible OT3. Also I hope no one was expecting any kind of context, because, No.

 

Leonardo is 13 when he gets his mark.

Marks, actually.

He wakes up from a dream where he can practically feel skin against his own, hears breathy moans in his ear and a warm wet mouth over his heart and shoulder. He feels sweaty and sticky when he opens his eyes, trying to hold the remnants of the dream.

Rolling over in bed Leonardo blinks sleep away from his eyes, already grabbing for a pencil and sketchbook. There’s four or five all scattered around his bed, and he’s barely awake as he’s trying to catch the details of the dream in graphite.

It takes him over an hour to realize that there is a sting on his back, too.

He strains with his mother’s makeup mirror in the small bathroom to read it.

The one over his heart on the front says “Of course.” The one on the back “Have we met before?”

A question and an answer. Leonardo puts a hand over his heart, amazed by his luck. It hardly occurs to him to think about how unusual getting two marks is. Most people get only one at a time.

XXXX

Antoine is 16 when he wakes up with a mark on his right hipbone. He rolls over and goes back to sleep, the mark still tingling. By the time, he wakes up again, at nearly one PM, there’s another on his left.

With the flexibility of a four-year yoga master, or a teenager, Antoine bends in half, his knees next to his ears. The right hipbone reads: “I’m glad to meet you”, and the left “Pardon? May I sketch you?”

He rolls his eyes, skyward. Pedantic, both. At least it sounds like one of them is going to be an artist.  He gets out of bed and pulls a shirt on to go downstairs.

It’s another week before he mentions it off-handily to his mother.  She drops the plate she’s holding and embraces him, tightly.

When he muffles ‘that there are two, maman’ she let’s go of him, just as quickly.

There’s an argument that has Antoine storming out of the house, with his mother shouting after him. A month later, Antoine steals a silver cup, a set of silver knives and one of his grandmother’s golden lockets. He gets Paris and sells them just in time to be caught by the police.

As he lies in the cell that night he rubs a hand over his hipbone.

XXXX

Maximilien has settled into his life as Blank at age 21. Most people get their marks with puberty. His has come and gone and his skin, other than the freckles, has remained blank. Max is Fine With This; No Really.

On his 22nd birthday Max wakes to a painful burn on his arms. He doesn’t flail for his glasses, watching blurrily as words appear on his forearms. Only when they’ve finished, does Max reach over for his bedside table.

“I don’t know,” On the right and the left “Are you Maximilien?”

He stares at them for a long while, the sun creeping across the bedsheets. He nearly runs out of time to get ready before Camille shows up to his tiny flat for “birthday shenanigans”.

“Why on earth are you wearing long sleeves? It must be 20 degrees out here!” Camille, it seems to Max, is hardly dressed at all wearing sandals, shorts and an artfully ripped muscle shirt. Everyone can see the words that are stamped along his ribcage, Camille having already been lucky enough to find his soulmate.

Max shrugs.

“I burn easily, you know that.”

Camille rolls his eyes but lets it drop. Despite this, Max is careful to keep the sleeves down all day, even if he sweats like a draft horse because of it.

That night, having absconded safely back to his tiny flat, Max takes a deep breath and rolls up the sleeve. He half expects the words to be gone, but they are still dark and clear on his skin, written along the blue-green veins of his arms.

He rubs his hands over them and very slowly, smiles.

XXXXX

Leonardo is 25 when he kisses Salai. Its messy and half an expression of aggression. Leonardo is very very happy that Salai isn’t his soul mate. However as they go down onto the couch that Salai had been posing on and Leonardo ends up with his hand tangled in red curls, he does kind of hope that whoever his soul mate is they make him smile in the same way.

He’s 26 when he Salai leaves for what Leonardo hopes is the last time. He’s heartsick and very tired. He’s maxed out his credit cards and his half-brothers have fought him every step of the way for his inheritance. He showers in cold water and looks at his shoulder. At this point Leonardo is just hoping for peace.

XXXX

Antoine is 22, and he winds his way through the lower quarter of Paris. He has more piercings than his sisters put together, and can smoke like a chimney. He’s wandered all of Europe ‘hiking before he goes off to school’ is what his mother tells her friends in Anise. Really Antoine is just wandering, drifting along. When his friends ask him what he’s doing, he replies ‘Waiting.’ He strokes the marks along his hipbones, as he takes himself in hand, both bored and lonely. He’s hoping that his soulmate thinks of him as often as Antoine finds himself thinking of them.

Antoine is 23 and he stops smoking. He calls his mother once a month. He stops working in bars and clubs and works in a café, instead. He writes on cheap chromebook a roommate gives him. He stops trying to kill time by masturbating. Now he hopes that his soul mate is someone he can talk to. 

XXXX

Max is 29. He’s Camille’s best man at his wedding and he decides to get a puppy from the shelter.  

He’s 30, with a larger flat and a large dog. He never lacks for cases and only wears long sleeved button downs. He’s not sure how much longer he can hide the marks from Charlotte and Camille, because they will eventually stop taking his sensitive skin as an excuse. He’s 30 and walking his dog when his phone goes off, email alerts going off. Max is the type of person who always checks his phone immediately. It’s from an online writing workshop he subscribes to, someone has contacted him directly. It’s from an ‘19OrGanT89’ who wants a beta reader for a piece of writing they’ve done. They’ve read Max’s profile and were very impressed, would he mind? Of course not, Max replies immediately, smiling at his phone. Please send it.

It’s unironically terrible. Max sends back words of encouragement, and some choice edits.

The emails become a regular thing. After a while they stop being about writing, and instead about the weather in Anise or in Paris. 19OrGanT89 wants to study law, and Maxime takes time to find old contacts and send them. After about three months he gets a real name, and an invitation.

XXXX

Leonardo is 30 when he gets an invitation to do a show in Paris. He’s starting to take off in Venice, and a generous patron wants him to come up to private gallery. He ships all the paintings he’s done so far to the gallery and then takes the train up to Paris. He’s never been to France before and he stumbles through asking for directions to his hotel. He sketches all through the night, and thinks it would be nice to go to a café tomorrow.

XXXX

Antoine is 25 and has moved back to Anise, much to his disgust, and his mother’s pleasure. A family friend puts him to work doing bike tours for tourists. Antoine prevents his mind from rotting by reading every moment someone is not directly talking to him and writing. He also exchanges emails with RousseauWasRight. It takes a little while to warm to the style, but at some point Antoine finds himself deeply charmed. He opens more and more, and is touched when list of emails and numbers for influential lawyers appears in his inbox.

When a friend invites him to come hang out in Paris for a weekend, Antoine asks if it would be okay to meet up. They make plans to meet at a small café.

XXXX

Leonardo is outside in the sun and idly drawing while people watching. It’s one of his favorite things. He’s watching the cross walk that’s next to the café when a man catches his eye. His immediate thought is ‘Model’.

But the man doesn’t walk like one and he’s dressed too plainly. There’s also the multiple piercings through his ears, eyebrows, lips and nose. But Leonardo thinks that the metal seems to add something to the flawless oval face, rather than detract.

His face is arresting, angelic, with just a hint of the same kind of sharpness that Salai had possessed. Leonardo knows he needs to get him down on paper.

The man passes by Leonardo’s table and he reaches out to him. He’s on his phone and looks vaguely annoyed to be interrupted. Leonardo doesn’t even think twice about the words that come out of his mouth.

“Pardon? May I sketch you?”

If the man was striking before, that’s nothing to when the color drains from his face, and his blue eyes go wide as dinner plates.

“Of course,” he says softly.

Leonardo freezes. The sign over his heart burns.

For an eternity, the two men stare at each other. Leonardo very slowly puts his pencil down and the man (his soul mate) dropped his hand to his side.

“May I sit down?” He gestures to the chair. Leonardo nods. The world seems to have all the noise sucked out of it, like a vacuum. For the only time in his life Leonardo has nothing to say.

XXXX

Antoine stares at his soulmate, his meeting with Maximilien driven out his head. He’s stunned. This is real, his soulmate is real. A part of him hadn’t really expected to ever meet them.

“What’s your name?’ He asks.

“Leonardo.” The man smiles. The effect could not denied. His eyes seem to sparkle in the sun and Antoine relaxes slightly.

“I’m Antoine.” He reaches his hand across the table to shake his hand. He’s slightly startled when Leonardo doesn’t release it immediately and presses a quick chaste kiss to the knuckles.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Antoine,” he laughs. Antoine notices his accent; Italian. “I’ve been waiting a long time.

“When did you get your mark?”

“When I was thirteen.” Here, Leonardo hesitates, and Antoine knows what he’s going to say next.

“I have two.” They both say at the same time. Leonardo looks startled, but relived.

“Have you met your other person?” Leonardo asks. Antoine shakes his head.

“No. Not yet.”

“Neither have I.” They both let this sink in for a moment.

It’s not entirely uncommon for a person to have two marks, and it can have a variety of meanings.

Usually it’s a death that drives partners apart.

More rarely it’s a polyamorous relationship, with each partner having multiples.

And on occasion, each person will have the same third.   

This, of course, was when Maximilien arrived.

XXXX

For some bizarre reason, on that morning, Maxime’s clock had simply not gone off. He slept an extra fifteen minutes, before his subconscious woke him abruptly.

As quickly as he’d showered and dressed, and drinks the stone-cold coffee that is still been in his countertop drip coffee maker, there’s still no way he’s going to make it to his meeting with Antoine on time.

He texts him, as he rushes to the Metro, that he’s running late.

‘It’s fine,’ is all the returning text says, and Max frowns. He’s become used to Antoine giving some sort of signal in his messages to indicate his mood or if he was being sarcastic in some capacity.

Max sighs. Of course, it would be today for this series of mishaps.

He turns onto the side street where they agreed to meet at the café. He slows slightly, scanning for someone who resembles the picture that had been sent over email last week. When he finally catches sight of the dirty blonde hair and earrings, his eyes slide over to the other man at the table. It appears to be an intense discussion, and Max watches as the stranger raises a hand to gently touch Antoine’s cheek.

He, feeling vaguely dreamlike, walks forward slowly. Antoine catches sight of him and his blue eyes go wide. The other man turns, dark brown hair catching on his black sports jacket. Max gets the impression of bright brown eyes, and freckles.

Max arrives at the table and awkwardly stands there.

Then Antoine says the words. The words on his arm.

“Are you Maximilien?”

His heart stops for a full five seconds. Max counts. His arm burns.

“I’m glad to meet you,” he says quietly. Antoine gasps.

The other man looks between them, eyebrows raised. “Antoine, are you alright?”

The younger man looks between them, breath coming rapidly. He shakes his head, looking stunned.

Maximilien looks at him and asks, “Have we met before?”

He watches the man’s eyes widen and knows. He knows what is happening, and the burn in his other arm confirms it.

XXXX

“I don’t know,” Leonardo whispers, stunned.

The green eyed man who had stopped at their table, winces and Leonardo watches as he takes off his tweed jacket, and rolls up both the sleeves of his light blue button down.

All three of them stare at the words, both signs right there and plain for anyone to read.

Leonardo considers the chances, of all three soulmates meeting within five minutes.

They’re astronomical.

“Please, sit down,” He says to the man, Maximilien. He looks slightly ill as he sinks into the chair, pale and shaken.

They sit in a heavy silence for a moment, all of them trying to look at each other and avoid eye contact at the same time. Leonardo takes a closer look at Maximilien. Easily the most noticeable feature in heart shaped face are the grey-green eyes, magnified by horn rimmed glasses. He’s freckled, over the bridge of his nose and around his mouth and even on his ears.

It’s a sharp contrast to Antoine, but one Leonardo likes. His fingers itch for the pencil he set down.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maximilien. I’m Leonardo,” he says and takes his hand.

XXXX

Antoine watches as Maximilien swallows hard, and allows his hand to be kissed by Leonardo.

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” he says softly. Antoine notices the accent is not Parisian and notes if for future reference.

Because per the marks on Antoine’s hipbones and on Maximilien’s arms, he has a future with these men. A shiver races up his spine at the thought.

Maximilien looks at him and with a certain amount of wryness says “I’m glad to meet you too, Antoine. I’m sorry I was late to our meeting.”

He laughs at this, and brushes a hand though his hair. “Truthfully, I’d forgotten after I met Leonardo.”

Maximilien eyebrows go up and he looks incredulously from one to the other.

“You’ve only just met?” He asks slowly.

Leonardo nods, smiling. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

“The odds must be – “

“Absurd,” Antoine nods, agreeing.

Leonardo looks between the two of them, a realization dawning on his face.

“You were meeting today? How do you know each other?”

Maximilien smiles abashedly. “From online.”

“We’ve been exchanging emails for a while now,” Antoine adds absently. He’s absorbed with looking at Maximilien’s face, that small fleeting smile.

“But this is the first time we’ve ever talked face to face,” Maximilien adds.

“What are you doing in Paris?” Antoine asks.

Leonardo smiles. Even in the few minutes they’ve known each other Antoine has noticed that he does that often, and wonders if all of them are genuine. He studies him carefully, and can only find sincerity in the light brown eyes.

“I’m an artist. I’m having my work shown tonight at one of the galleries.”

XXXX

Max feels ill.

Generally he is not a fan of surprises. This has been a problem through his life. It was a surprise when his mother and infant brother died due to complications. It was a surprise when his father left a note on the kitchen table, leaving Max, Charlotte, Henriette and Agustin with their grandparents and did not come back. It was a surprise when Henriette was struck by a drunk driver at nineteen and died in the street.

Max does not like to be surprised.

He’s wrong footed, tilted and struggling to find his equilibrium in the face of this shocking revelation.

His soulmates, in the same place, at the same time, and both are (Max’s heart stutters) beautiful.

Antoine looks like he has been touched by the hand of providence, beautiful flawless smooth skin, large dark blue eyes with a sleepy velvet look. His hair is a very dark blonde that shines in the sunlight, and matches all the jewelry in his face. Lips, nose, eyebrow, and earrings all in metallic shades.

Meanwhile Leonardo looks like the shadows to Antoine’s highlights. He has dark brown hair that waves down to his shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His eyes are the lightest brown he’s ever seen. Even his freckles are perfectly placed over the bridge of his nose, and add to the charm.

Max isn’t shallow, and has deliberately distanced himself from paying attention to ‘conventional’ attractiveness, but it’s clear to anyone with sight that he’s just struck a goldmine.

And to think that not so long ago Max thought he was going spend his life a Blank.

Leonardo talks about having his work shown at one of the galleries, via the grace of a generous patron who paid for Leonardo to come up over the weekend from Florence.

“You’re only here for the weekend?” Max asks, dread settling lead-like into his stomach.

Leonardo nods, the smile slipping away.

“I’m not here for very long either,” Antoine ads. “I’m expected back to work on Monday.”

Max’s heart sinks even farther.

When Camille and Lucile met, they’d been in the same apartment building. They’d hardly spent a full 48 hours without each other since that moment.

Florence. Anise.

At least it’s not on the literal other side of the world, only the figurative, Max thinks to himself.

“Well, we have today,” Leonardo says softly and takes Max’s and then Antoine’s hand. He presses a kiss to each and then presses them palm to palm and holds them together with his own.

Max’s heart flips over and he knows he’s lost.

XXXXX

Leonardo is 30. On the train back to Florence he finds himself drawing the same two faces over and over, and sighs. When he gets home, it’s devastatingly quiet. He turns on the radio and a rainstorm simulator to fill the void. He sit on his balcony in the overly warm sunshine and can’t draw except for kind green eyes and an angelic oval face.     

Antoine is 25. He takes the bus back to Anise and doesn’t mention Leo or Maxime to his mother or friends. He writes poetry on cheap paper and sends it by mail to Paris and Florence. He smiles at odd moments and when he lies in bed he thinks about the warmth of two bodies.  

Max is 29. Camille takes him shopping and typically freaks out when, deciding that he has nothing less to lose, he finally takes off his sleeves in front of his friend. However, he conveniently leaves off the part that he’s met them both. He calls Leo during the week and keeps all the poetry Antoine sends him in his bedside drawer.

It’ll be 2800 hours, over 100 days, till the next time the three of them are in the same place, and together. However as each of the words branded on them burns quietly it’s a constant reminded that despite time and distance, they still belong with each other.

-Fin


End file.
